Devotion
by Edward King
Summary: Sable returns to the Dark Brotherhood with a new reverence for Sithis and the love of her life, ready to take on new contracts and spread her legend across Skyrim. However, glory, faith and, love have their cost. And the price may just tear the Family apart. Sequel to Induction. Part two of The Legend of the White Deathbell.
1. Prologue

"General Tullius, Jarl Ulfric, may I have a private word with you both?"

Both men turned towards the speaker. Even by Nord standards, he was tall and muscular. He kept his long dirty blonde hair tied in a thick ponytail. His bright blue eyes showed both kindness and thoughtfulness.

With a glance at each other as they collected their weapons just outside of the large conference room of High Hrothgar, they both assented; Tullius with a curt nod.

"Of course, Dragonborn." The Jarl agreed.

"Outside would probably be best," the Dragonborn replied leading them away. He walked them back to the main hall of the ancient castle and then out a set of doors that opened to a wide expanse behind the fortress.

It was blowing snow around them as the tall blonde Nord led the two leaders across the area and somewhat to the edge of the mountainside.

"First, I want to thank you for agreeing to these negotiations," he said turning to the two leaders. "I hope that this truce can lead to a peaceful and lasting end to the war. Do you feel the same?"

"I do," General Tullius spoke at once. The aging Imperial was clearly feeling the bitter cold, but did his best not to show it. "But my fear is that it will not last under its current conditions."

"Why is that?"

"We must both admit that this was hasty and we only agreed to it so that you could do what you need to do in order to resolve the problem of the dragons. The main underlying cause of this rebellion remains unresolved."

"And what do you see as the cause of this rebellion?" The tall Nord asked.

"The man who started it as still not been brought to justice for his crimes." Tullius nearly shouted, becoming annoyed by the line of questions.

"I see," the Dragonborn replied. "And you care nothing for his reasons?"

"I don't!" The elder snapped. "I'll admit that there are aspects of the Empire's agreement with the Dominion that are not ideal, but murder and sedition is not the way to solve them."

"Thank you, General," the taller Nord said with a nod before turning to the other. "And you Jarl Ulfric? Do you feel the same about the truce you just agreed to? Do you wish it to provide lasting peace for Skyrim?"

"I'm sorry, Dragonborn, but I do not," the Jarl replied. He was shorter than the Dragonborn and with dark hair that was unusual for a Nord. "I cannot accept the current terms as a permanent solution to woes and injustices that plague our homeland."

"What 'woes and injustices' are so insufferable?" The blonde questioned.

"There are many," the Ulfric Stormcloak replied, "but chief among them are the elven occupation and the ban on worship of our own gods." The Jarl's voice began to gain in volume. "They arrest our countrymen every day and take them for torture, some never to return. Many of our customs and traditions are made illegal simply because they do not understand them. Our kinsmen cannot suffer this oppression."

"And do our kinsmen actually feel the same as you?"

"Of course they do!"

"Do they? Then why do so many join the Imperial legion to fight your cause? It would seem that they do not feel the same oppression as you do."

"With all respect, Dragonborn," Ulfric said through gritted teeth, "What's the point of this conversation?"

"Agreed!" Tullius chimed in. "Why drag us out here in the snow and freezing cold just to re-state common knowledge?"

"I have a proposal for you both." The Dragonborn stated simply.

"Out with it then," the general cried visibly shivering now.

"Apologies, general, for keeping you out here so long," the big Nord replied. "I propose that you both allow the truce to last indefinitely. Once the dragon crisis is dealt with, a moot could be safely called with the truce still in effect. With the backing of you both, it shouldn't be much trouble to have me declared High King. Then I can lead a unified Skyrim back to the respect and prosperity it deserves."

Both General Tullius and Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak looked shocked.

"What about living under the thumb of the Dominion?" The Jarl questioned. "If nothing changes, I don't see a reason why you are any better than Elisif or Torygg."

"I would ask your patience," the taller Nord replied. "It would be something we would need to live with for a while, but eventually the time would come to cast the Dominion off of us."

"So agree to end this war so you can start another?" Tullius cried out, an incredulous tone to his voice. "But it would be worse. You'd have all of Skyrim rallying to your cause."

"War is not always the answer, General," the Dragonborn returned calmly. "Perhaps the White-Gold Concordat could be renegotiated at some future point."

"What!?" Ulfric breathed. "No! I shall not support you. I shall not support any one that would have peaceful dealings with those Oblivion-damned elves!"

"And you, General?"

"As long as Skyrim can remain steadfastly apart of the Empire and grievances can be settled peacefully, I can lend my voice to your cause at a moot," Tullius conceded. "I do not know how much worth it would be to your cause, but I would give you my support. It certainly would not guarantee your appointment, however."

"Thank you, General."

"NO!" Ulfric shouted in dismay. "I will not allow such blasphemous dealings to determine the fate of my homeland."

"My sorry, my Jarl," the Dragonborn said with regret tinged through his voice. "But I do this for the good of my country."

Without warning, the tall Nord punched the Jarl of Windhelm in the throat. In the moment that Ulfric Stormcloak was stunned, the Dragonborn drew a long dagger and thrust it into the Jarl's chest.

"Please believe that I wish I could have done this differently," the Dragonborn said quietly and sorrowfully, before he twisted the blade and yanked it back out. "May Sovengarde take you."

He laid Ulfric down gently as the Jarl choked on his own blood and the light fled from his eyes.

"Congratulations, General," the Dragonborn uttered. "I have just ended the war for you. We shall return to the troops and announce the Imperial victory and arrange for the moot once the dragon threat is ended."

Tullius stared at the other man aghast. "What is this!? You just murdered him."

The Dragonborn turned a stern look on the general and corrected him. "I have killed a declared enemy on a field of battle, General."

"You murdered him in cold blood. He was defenseless." Tullius argued.

"Were not Ulfric and I defenseless as you ordered our murder in Helgen?"

"That is different, it. . ."

"How, General?" The Nord nearly shouted. "How, exactly, is it different?"

"I was bringing a criminal to justice," Tullius shot back. "You killed him while all were housed under a banner of peace."

"And now he has finally been brought to justice." The Dragonborn said evenly. "I don't see why you would have such a problem with this."

"You have lost me, Dragonborn," Tullius spat the title as if it left a foul taste in his mouth. "I will not support such a two-faced and treacherous man as High King. If you'll excuse me."

Tullius turned and started to march back towards the castle. The Nord was behind him in an instant, clapping a hand over his mouth and dragging the same dagger used to kill Ulfric Stormcloak across his throat."

"Apologies, General," he hissed into Tullius' ear. "This is for the good of Skyrim."

The Dragonborn forced the blade deep into the general's neck as he withdrew it and then laid the Imperial down on the snow. He then turned to face the body of the former Jarl of Windhelm.

"FUS RO DAH!"

The force of the shout ripped through the air, thundering unfathomably loud. It hurled the body of Ulfric Stormcloak over the edge of the tallest mountain in Skyrim to be lost in some unreachable crag.

A moment later the doors to High Hrothgar burst open and soldiers from both the Stormcloaks and Imperial Legion spilled into the wide courtyard. They saw the Dragonborn kneeling over the body of General Tullius.

The Dragonborn looked up, the distress plain on his face. "I was too late," he wailed. "I was unable to save him."

"What happened?" A Nord woman in the full armor of an Imperial officer asked.

"I brought them out here to express my gratitude that they met and agreed to the truce," the Dragonborn explained. "After I turned to go back to High Hrothgar, their words became heated and Jarl Ulfric challenged General Tullius to a duel. The general refused and turned his back on Ulfric. The Jarl cut Tullius' throat before I could get back to help. In that moment, I reacted and shouted Jarl Ulfric away from the General. Alas, I used too much power and Ulfric was lost over the edge. I'm deeply sorry to you all. I was too late. It's my fault they are both dead."

The woman's mouth dropped open in shock and disbelief, but she quickly composed herself.

"Legion, hear this," she called out in a loud and authoritative voice that shook just a little. "I am taking command of the Imperial Army in Skyrim as acting General until word can be sent to the Imperial City and a replacement arrives. The truce remains as agreed upon by the late General Tullius and Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak. I need a contingent to gather the General's body and bring it with us to be honorably interred in Solitude. Depart."

"Stormcloaks," shouted another Nord who had emerged from the throng of Stormcloak soldiers. He had an impressive beard tied together with a ring beneath his chin and was wearing a bear pelt, the head of which was draped over his head. "We return to Windhelm to honor our fallen Jarl."

A few minutes later, only the Imperial officer was left. She came up to the Dragonborn and knelt down to him.

"I'm sure you did all you could," she said quietly. "I will have to go through with an investigation, but you have never shown yourself to be anything less than honorable and trustworthy. I'm sure it will be formality. You have my full support for anything you need Ysvar."

"Thank you, Rikke," the Dragonborn replied. "After seeing the treachery of Ulfric, I have decided to back the Empire if the war resumes. Hopefully it will not come to that."

"I don't think it's possible for this truce to last if Galmar is anything like Ulfric." General Rikke sighed.

"I think I have an idea how we can resolve the war and return peace to Skyrim," the Dragonborn said as he smiled up at her.

* * *

" _Welcome home."_ The black door that served as the entrance to the Sanctuary of the assassin guild known as the Dark Brotherhood slid open. It depicted a large skull with a red right handprint set in its forehead. Below it sat a full skeleton, its back resting upright against the left hand side of the door with five smaller skulls resting at its feet. For such a macabre scene, Sable never thought it looked more welcoming or been so glad to see it.

The white-haired assassin was walking on her own now, though still slowly and gingerly if more complicated bodily maneuvers were required. Her eyes – once a pale silver-blue – were now fiery orbs of molten gold; a sure sign of vampirism. She was quite happy though despite the extremely grievous injuries she had suffered at the hands of the Daedric Prince, Boethiah. The end result had ended up being a personal encounter with Sithis himself and having become a vampire, which meant never having to die. Add in the fact that she had actually managed to kill Boethiah and make herself a living legend in the process, she felt things couldn't have been any better. Eventually there wouldn't be pain when she drew breath and she would recover all of her ambulatory abilities. Injuries healed. Power and glory was forever.

Thankfully the passageway that served as the entrance into the cave complex that was home to the Family did not have any stairs, but the incline down into the earth was enough to force Sable to take it at a much slower pace than she would normally. Gabriella, Babette and Sionis filed in after her, patiently accepting her gradual progress, all wanting to make sure to not push her beyond what she would be able to do.

A short time later they entered into a small open area in the network of caves. To their right, there were a series of shelves containing all manner of goods. Straight ahead was another shorter tunnel leading to compound proper of the Sanctuary. On the far side left hand wall of the cave sat a desk with a map of Skyrim laid out on it. The desk served as Astrid's place to attend to all of the Family's business and operations, but very oddly, she wasn't there. Sable wasn't sure she remembered there ever a time where she had returned from a job and not seen the Mistress of the Dark Brotherhood standing over that map.

"I'll go see if she's in the dining room," Babette offered and then looked to Gabriella, "Watch him." Her voice developed a hard edge to it. "He's not even supposed to be here."

Sionis stopped his gaping at everything and turned an annoyed glance at the child vampire. It quickly turned to a nervous one as she sent a withering glare back at him. The three women had argued quite extensively about taking the mage into the Sanctuary. Both Gabriella and Babette had profusely contended that he was not a member of the Dark Brotherhood and should not be allowed into their home. Sable had remained adamant that she would not return unless he would be admitted. In the end, the vampire and the Dark Elf had to relent in favor of ensuring their sister's recovery and well-being.

Before anyone could say anything, Babette was gone; down the tunnel leading further into the assassin's guild Sanctuary. A moment later, various commotions and footsteps were heard coming up to meet them. A Nord with long white hair and beard wearing black and sanguine leather armor stepped into the room. He was followed a moment later by an Argonian and then a Redguard. Initially, they all surged forward to speak with their white-haired sister, but a stern look from Gabriella – who stepped in front of Sable – stopped them short.

"What in Oblivion happened to you, tidbit?" The first man blurted.

"Back alive I see," the Redguard offered, his deep voice taking over the Nord's gravelly tones.

"Who iss he?" The Argonian asked, his reptilian eyes trained squarely on Sionis.

"Stand aside. All of you."

The order came from a female voice that was authoritative and yet smooth as silk. The small crowed parted and from among them emerged a tall blonde Nord. At first Astrid offered a relieved smile upon seeing Sable back alive, but it vanished – replaced by a murderous scowl – as soon as she noticed Sionis lingering in the background.

"What in Oblivion is he doing here?" She demanded. "Why is he not dead?"

"No one is killing him." Despite the evident pain from the still mending ribs, Sable's voice was authoritative.

Astrid settled her glare on the white-haired assassin. "You do not give orders here, sister."

"I'm sorry, mistress, but I won't allow any harm to come to him." The resolve in Sable's voice was unmistakable. "And if he is turned away, then I will go with him."

"Is that so?"

"Yes. As much as it would pain me to leave you all – the only family I've ever had – I will leave for his sake."

"And why is that?" Astrid questioned, partly annoyed at Sable's flaunting of her authority and partly genuinely curious as to what the answer would be.

"He has given me what I wanted most and . . ."

"He gave you a contract that you never should have accepted," Astrid fired at her protégé. "He gave you a contract that nearly got you killed."

"I am alive," Sable returned simply. "The contract was fulfilled."

"You're alive because of Babette's and my efforts to save you," Gabriella reminded her. "Had we not come along when we did, you would not be here talking to us now."

Sable turned to face her Dunmer friend. "I am alive because of Sithis. He willed my return from the Void. And was not Sionis there as well? If I am alive truly because of your efforts, then you must acknowledge him as well."

At the mention of Sithis, Babette rolled her eyes and Gabriella pinched the bridge of nose.

"Sable, we've talked about this before," the Dark Elf said, rebuking her friend. "Sithis doesn't speak to mortals. He speaks only to the Night Mother and she is gone. It wasn't Our Father you spoke to."

"Then how do you explain the vampirism taking hold so fast?" Sable implored. "Babette, didn't you say that it takes three days to run its course and turn someone?" The child vampire nodded. "And how long before I 'died' and came back?"

"A few minutes," Babette replied.

"So then, how did it work?" The white-haired assassin questioned the now quiet room. "How am I standing here as a vampire?"

"Your body was severely damaged and going into shock. It was working harder, faster than anything I've ever seen," Gabriella chimed in. "Perhaps it sped up the process of the Sanguinare Vampiris disease?"

Babette frowned. "I've never heard of such a thing," Babette said. "If a person dies before the disease can run its course, they just die. Though I've never seen circumstances as extreme as yours, Sable."

Astrid listened to the exchange among the three women. There were two things that Sable had said earlier that caught her attention. The first was that she said she fulfilled the contract and the other being her invoking the will of Sithis. While she had paid respect before, Sable had never seemed terribly devout to the Dread Father. Of their group, only Festus and Veezara seemed to hold any real veneration toward Sithis. However, Sable had just implied that she knew his will. The argument over her vampirism added an interesting wrinkle as well, but it was something to discuss another time; perhaps with Veezara and Festus as they seemed to know much more about Sithis than anyone else. But there was something else that Sable was holding back. She could tell by the younger woman's carefully chosen words and the certain way Sable always held herself when avoiding answering her mistress completely.

"Aside from that," Astrid burst in, ending – for the moment – the debate, "you haven't said everything. You haven't told me the real reason you would leave your Family if he was to be turned away."

A split-second of panic washed through Sable's eyes telling Astrid that she was correct in her suspicions of not getting a full answer.

"Why would you leave us for him?"

There was a moment of silent calculating on Sable's part before she gave up. This was her Family. They had accepted her and everything about her. Surely they would accept this. She had to stop trying to hide herself from them. They only saw her as an equal. There was no power to be gained by either her or them. Rather it was always shared. Perhaps old habits did not give up so easily.

"I love him," she answered quietly, but steadily.

Astrid's mouth fell open for a moment.

"I love him," Sable said again, "And he loves me. I can't – won't – bear to be parted from him. So, if you send him away, you will be sending me away as well. Surely you must understand Astrid," her voice was now tinged with pleading. "Could you stand to be separated from Arnbjorn? If he did something that would cause him to be outcast from the Family, would you not leave with him?"

"I . . ." Astrid started to reply, but stopped too stunned to form any response. What had this man done to cause such a response from Sable?

"Astrid, please?" Sable implored, "It would break my heart to have to leave the Family. Please don't make me."

For a moment, Astrid was furious that Sable would put it that way. She wouldn't be forced from the Dark Brotherhood. Her choosing Sionis over her Family would not be their fault. But then she saw the white hair of her husband standing off to the side and realized from where the younger Nord was speaking. If, for whatever reason, Arnbjorn was forced from the guild she would be as well. Whatever happened to him happened to her and what happened to her happened to him. She realized, then, that Sable had apparently made a similarly deep connection with the mage and that she really would be forcing Sable to leave if she attempted to separate them.

"Alright, he stays," Astrid relented, and then raised her voice to an authoritative tone when she saw the giddy smile forming on Sable's face, "He stays under the assumption that he will be joining our Family and swearing his loyalty to Sithis."

"Thank you, Astrid. Thank you so much." Sable beamed.

Astrid, though, thought it very interesting that a wave of distress passed over Sionis' face when she mentioned him joining their ranks. She pushed it aside, resolving to take it up with him in the near future. However, there was another question she wanted answered. She then quieted the crowd that was quickly becoming boisterous

"Before we all celebrate," she called out, "There is something else I need answered. You said you fulfilled the contract?"

"Yes," Sable confirmed.

"And the contract was for . . ." Astrid prompted

"Boethiah."

"Boethiah!?"

Sable nodded.

"The Daedric Prince of Plots."

Sable nodded again.

"A god. You fulfilled a contract on a god."

Sable nodded once more, her smile threatening to split her face in half.

"You do realize, my little overachiever, that you can't actually kill a Daedric Prince, right? Boethiah would just disintegrate and return to her realm of Oblivion."

"About that, mistress," Gabriella spoke up. "Boethiah did not return to Oblivion."

"What do you mean, Gabriella?"

"He didn't dissolve," Sionis chimed in, speaking for the first time. "Boethiah's body still lies on the mountaintop upon which his Sacellum is perched."

"What?" Astrid gasped, looking to Babette and Gabriella for confirmation.

"It's true!" Babette exclaimed excitedly. "We were camped there for days and Boethiah's dead body was still there when we left!"

Astrid's eyes went wide.

"Is it even possible?" she whispered.

"The contract wass bound to SSithiss," Veezara said with no small amount of reverence. "The Void conssumess all. Boethiah iss truly dead."

"Dear Sithis," Astrid breathed, turning an awestruck gaze upon her younger sibling.

* * *

 **A/N: And we're back! I hope the wait wasn't too long.**

 **-E. K.**


	2. Chapter 1

**A/N: And we're back! I apologize for such a long time in between updates. As my kids get older I'm finding time to write ever harder to come by. I shall not ever give up on this story, however. No matter how long it takes, I will write Sable's tale until it is fully told. Thanks to everyone that has read so far and stayed with us. I will try to get updates out faster. I have the next two chapters written. Just need to edit them and post them. But enough chit-chat. You came for the new chapter, right? Hope you enjoy.**

 **-E.K**

* * *

 _Two Years Later_

Sitting at an out of the way table on the second floor of the New Gnisis Cornerclub, she began to carefully unfold the small paper package she had been carrying with her. Before undoing the last fold and pulling the contents from the parcel, she looked up and gazed about to make sure no one was watching her. The inn was particularly lively this evening and sitting in a dark corner as she was, it was rather unlikely anyone knew she was there, let alone watching her, but this was for her only. She would share it with no other.

Satisfied that no eyes were looking her way, she pulled a small dried flower from its protective sheath. It was the pointed cascade of petals of a deathbell flower, though this one was white; the veins being the very palest shade of violet. She had never seen anything like it before or since she had awoken one morning to find it resting on her chest.

That had seemed a lifetime ago. She had gone to bed the night before as the superior officer to all the Thalmor in Skyrim. She had woke to find a disastrous situation from which there had been only one option. She had found half the guard dead, a large amount of classified information stolen, and this flower; the calling card of a murderous thief that had ended her reign as the Aldmeri Dominion's First Emissary to Skyrim. She had taken as much wealth as she could with her and left and had spent the last two years looking for the miserable wretch that had ended that part of her life.

As she gazed at the dried flower, her anger rose to a seething boil. She would find the one responsible for ruining her and she would have her revenge.

"Did you hear? Another of those white deathbell flowers was found."

The nearby conversation broke Elenwen's musings. She focused her attention of the two Dunmer, intent on hearing all they had to say on the subject.

"Where was it this time?"

"Whiterun."

"Anyone we know?"

"Don't think so. One of the guard."

"How many is that now?"

"Hmm. . . At least a two dozen that I know of."

Elenwen nodded her head slightly. She had certainly heard rumors of these white deathbells being left on bodies recently. Could all the victims possibly be attributed to the same killer?

"Any idea who it is?"

"Dark Brotherhood. It's got to be."

"How do you figure that?"

"Who else would kill so indiscriminately? It doesn't matter the person's station, rank, wealth, or anything like that? Besides, my cousin saw the killer once. Had the black and red leathers of a Dark Brotherhood assassin."

"Bah, your cousin claims that the Dark Brotherhood killed Boethiah. I'm not believing anything she says."

"Can you explain, then, why Boethiah's gone silent?"

"When has he ever been talkative, huh? Your brains are ash-addled."

With that said, the dark elf got up and walked away, leaving the one with the all-seeing cousin behind. The remaining Dunmer grumbled a bit as he finished his drink and then got up to leave as well. Elenwen gave him a moment's head start before she followed.

Outside the swirling snow made it even harder to see in the dark of night. Most would have lost their target immediately. Elenwen, however, mumbled a few words under her breath and concentrated, pulling from her connection to Aetherius. A moment later, a bluish grey mist in the vague shape of a person appeared a few yards down the lane heading downstairs; further into the Grey Quarter, the section of the city populated mainly by the dark elves. The spell was used to detect all living things within a certain radius, but given the lateness of the night combined with the snow storm meant that most of Windhelm's inhabitants were already indoors. Her quarry seemed to be the only one out at the moment.

Aided by the spell, the former First Emissary became the perfect predator. She followed far enough away so as not to give the slightest risk of being seen or heard in the crunching snow gathered in the streets, yet close enough for the spell to tell her exactly every turn the Dunmer took. Twice she recast the spell as she followed him through the maze-like warren, but she doggedly remained on his tail.

Eventually he stopped and stood before a door. The bluish-gray shape seemed to be just standing there doing nothing. She realized he was getting his key to unlock his home. Quickly she closed the distance between them and as he opened the door she crashed into him, tackling him down to the floor of his home.

The next thing he knew there was a blade being held against his throat. Elenwen removed her hood and leaned over him, bringing her face close to his and staring him straight in his eyes.

"Now," she purred malevolently, "you're going to tell me everything you know about the Dark Brotherhood and these white Deathbells."

"I don't know nothing, really," the man stammered.

"Now, now," Elenwen chortled condescendingly, "You knew the colors of their armor. What else do you know?"

"Everyone knows the assassins wear black and red, you high-assed bitch. Don't mean I've actually even seen one. And I haven't. Get off me."

Elenwen grabbed a fistful of his hair and lifted his head off the ground before slamming in back down against the floor. "Think real hard," she sneered, before bashing his head against the ground again. His only response was a jumble of Dunmeri curses.

"If you waste my time much further, I'll just slit your throat and be done with you for wasting my time."

"Argh, I don't know nothing!" The Dunmer shouted. "Please, I don't know anything about the Dark Brotherhood."

Elenwen pushed the point of her dagger into the dark elf's throat. The tip broke through his skin and blood began to trickle out over the blade and his neck.

"Please!" He cried. "What do you want me to say? I know that they wear black and red leathers. I know that those white flowers have been appearing on people who've been murdered. No one's officially tied them to the Brotherhood, but everyone knows it has to be them. I know that that Aretino boy had dealings with them once. That's it. That's all I know. Nothing more than anyone else. Please let me go."

"Aretino boy?" Elenwen removed her dagger from his throat. "Tell me all about this Aretino boy."

"You don't know about him? You been living under some rock or something?"

Elenwen grabbed his hair and cracked his head against the floor. "Focus." She spat sternly. "That's not important. What is important – a matter of life and death importance you might say – is everything you know about this Aretino brat."

"He was some brat that escaped from Honorhall," the Dunmer offered excitedly. "They say he performed the Black Sacrament and one of the Dark Brotherhood murdered the headmistress for him."

"And where is he now?"

"I don't know."

"Tsk, tsk." Elenwen brought the dagger back to the man's neck.

"I don't know! I swear!" The dark elf shouted before it turned to pitiful whimpering. "He left the city right after the job with the Brotherhood was done. Some say we went back to Honorhall since the new headmistress is sweeter on them kids. That's all I know. I swear on Azura. Please don't kill me."

"Where is this . . . Honorhall?" Elenwen asked, a predatory smile on her face.

"R-Riften. It's in Riften."

"See there," Elenwen purred. "You've been most helpful. You just have to try."

"Th-thank you," the Dunmer sighed. "You'll let me go now?"

"Of course." Elenwen said cloyingly. "Sleep well."

With that she ripped the blade of her dagger across the man's throat. The dark elf's eyes went wide in shock as he began choking on his own blood. Elenwen replaced her hood back on her head before stalking back out into the dark, snow-logged streets of Windhelm. She made straight for her room at the New Gnisis Cornerclub to get some sleep. Tomorrow she was off to Riften.

* * *

"I'm sorry, but I'd rather not talk about it, ma'am," Constance Michel said with cautious, untrusting tones. "I've already told everything I know about it to the guard. You should ask about it with them."

"I understand your hesitation, my dear," Elenwen replied, trying her best to remain calm. "Perhaps I could talk to Aventus?"

"I'm afraid not," the headmistress replied. "He no longer lives here. He was adopted about a year ago."

"Do you know where the family lives?" There was a small tinge of desperation growing in her voice and he could see that other woman was noticing it. The conversation had quickly turned disastrous and it looked that there was little chance in saving it.

"Why do you want to know that?" Constance questioned. Her tone was now full of suspicion. "The murder happened over two years ago. It was investigated by the guard and determined that it was done by the Dark Brotherhood. It was bad enough to have to think about that day all over again, but I don't see why you need to know where any of the children that are adopted from here live now. Please leave."

"I'm sorry to have disturbed you," Elenwen tried with as soothing a voice as she could muster. "I mean no harm to you or any of the children. I am simply looking into the incident that happened here. It was rumored that young Aventus was the one that performed the Black Sacrament and ordered the murder. I am simply trying to learn the truth of that."

"Why?" Constance cried out before reigning herself back in so as not to draw attention from the children. "Why would you be investigating? And why so long after it happened? It doesn't make sense to me. Please get out, before I call the guard."

Elenwen knew she had to come up with something quickly or all would be lost. She searched her mind for an excuse to be questioning a two-year-old murder while not letting the rising panic show through her calm façade. Curse that idiot Dunmer for failing to mention how long ago the brat had contacted the band of assassins.

"Leave now!" Constance raised her voice, but it was still shaky. She was trying to speak with authority, but was clearly inexperienced at it. "Leave. . . or I'll. . . I'll call for the guard."

"Alright, keep your voice down. I'll tell you."

Elenwen patted the air with her hands as an idea to explain her odd, overdue actions struck her.

"Tell me what?" The Imperial woman demanded.

"I'm investigating at the behest of the Penitus Oculatus," Elenwen hushed her voice and looked around a bit to see if anyone was around. There wasn't, of course, but it helped sell the ruse. The headmistress' eyes went wide.

"What? Really? Why wait so long to do so?"

"No one is supposed to know we're investigating. We do not want any risk of the Brotherhood finding out, so you will repeat nothing I'm about to tell you. Agreed?"

Constance nodded her head in agreement.

"There has been a considerable rise in Dark Brotherhood activity recently," the former First Emissary explained, keeping her voice just above a whisper. "It all started with the murder of Honorhall's former headmistress two years ago." Elenwen had no idea if that was actually true, but it fit the timeline close enough and she was sure that this skittish Imperial wouldn't know any better. "We don't know what was so special about this contract, but we believe that if we can find out we may be able to discern a pattern or two in the group's behavior. Maybe even track them down and put an end to them."

Constance sat in stunned silence for a while. But then her eyes lit up as a thought occurred to her.

"Is that why Captain Maro, is here?"

"I beg your pardon, my dear." It was Elenwen turned to be stunned and she hoped her surprise didn't show.

"Am I mistaken? I thought it was the captain that was here in Riften. Isn't his name Maro?"

"Why. . . yes, it is." The Altmer was now in the midst of a serious fight to keep her composure.

"Then, he must be escorting you while you conduct your investigation." Constance's face lit up like she had just ferreted out the location of the Dark Brotherhood herself.

"Uh, yes. That is it exactly." Elenwen agreed, still managing to not break her masquerade. The notion was utterly absurd. If the Penitus Oculatus were truly investigating the Dark Brotherhood covertly, having a high ranking officer in full regale escort said agent around, would be the stupidest thing they could do, but she went along with the idea since it pushed her further to her goal of finding the assassins responsible for ruining her life.

"In that case, I'll tell you everything I can remember about Grelod's murder," Constance offered eagerly.

* * *

"Good day, Gaius."

Gaius Maro reined his horse at the unseen greeting and looked about for its source.

"Who calls," he called out when it went unfound. "Show yourself."

A hooded figure stepped out onto the road a few yards ahead.

"Riding alone?" The figure questioned with a condescending tone. "A risky decision don't you think? The roads can be quite dangerous."

"Do you mean to do harm?" Maro challenged. "Not a wise decision on your part I assure you."

"Why do you assume an old friend would do you harm?"

"Who are you?" Maro demanded.

This figure removed her hood, settled her gaze on him and waited patiently.

"Elenwen!?" The man gasped. "The Thalmor told us you were dead."

"And so I am," Elenwen agreed. "At least to them and my old life anyway."

"Then what really happened?" Gaius climbed from is horse and walked over to her.

"I'd rather not go into that right now," the Altmer said. "I finally have a lead on those involved and just need a little help from you to deliver the punishment they so desperately deserve."

"What help do you need?"

"Information," she stated. "I understand the Oculatus has been investigating the Dark Brotherhood of late?"

"We're always investigating the Dark Brotherhood in some fashion Elenwen."

"Yes, but even more so now that they have become quite active, correct?"

Gaius paused, choosing his next words carefully. "Everyone knows that the Dark Brotherhood has been. . . rather busy recently, Elenwen. So, of course we would be investigating more."

"Come now, Gaius," Elenwen tsked. "We both know there's more to it than that. You can't trust an old friend with a little more than the official line?"

"I don't know that we were ever described as friends, Elenwen," Gaius backed off, a measure of brusqueness finding its way into his voice. "Quite often the Penitus Oculatus and the Aldmeri Dominion worked together and our working relationship was always. . . professional and. . . generally amiable." He paused. "But you're supposed to be dead. And now I find you alive and apparently hiding from the Thalmor and the first thing you ask about is the Dark Brotherhood. The whole thing is not sitting well with me."

"Is that so?" Elenwen purred maliciously. "But it sat well with you when talking with the pretty headmistress of Honorhall?"

Gaius eyes went wide.

"What. . . what do you mean?" He stammered, clearly caught and trying to find a way to explain away his transgression. "I did nothing. . . I mean she doesn't. . ."

"How many bats of her eyelashes did it take Gaius?" Elenwen spat. "Surely, you didn't let any real secrets slip, but you told her enough about everything didn't you. At the very least you let slip that you were investigating the Dark Brotherhood and that the Oculatus is much more interested in the rise of contracts simply beyond a higher body count."

The man's ruddy complexion turned yet another shade of pale.

"Did she welcome you into her bed, Gaius?" The Altmer teased. "Oh, what would Faida think were she to find out, hmm?"

Gaius bristled at the latest accusation. "Now see here, you high elf bitch," he choked out through clenched teeth. "I did nothing of the sort."

"It doesn't matter, Captain Maro," she threw back. "The accusation will be enough to at least have you examined. Then how long until it is discovered that you told a pretty, but rather naïve, brat-watcher about Oculatus business?"

"But. . ."

"And it won't stop there Gaius," Elenwen warned, "After you are expelled they will begin looking at daddy with charges of nepotism and wonder just how much like father is the son."

"Enough!" The man nearly screamed, before continuing in quieter and – more importantly – defeated tones. "What do you wish to know?"

"Everything," Elenwen demanded triumphantly. "I want to know everything the Penitus Oculatus knows about the Dark Brotherhood."

Gaius sighed and gave the elf one last look before speaking.

"There is not a lot," he admitted, hoping that she might relent and let him off the hook. When he saw that it wasn't going to happen, he continued. "As far as we can tell, this is the last surviving cell. They are more than six, but less than twelve. They are led by a woman known as Astrid, though it seems a white-haired Nord woman is their main assassin; or at least the most active. Some call her The White Deathbell for the flower she leaves on her victims."

Gaius paused and it took everything in her for Elenwen to not react to the confirmation of what the flower meant.

"Do you know where to find them?" She asked eagerly.

"Of course not," Gaius said incredulously. "If we did, we would have wiped them from the face of Tamriel."

Elenwen's hopes fell.

"We know only that their Sanctuary is near Falkreath."

Elenwen felt her hope rise once again.

"Is that all?" She asked, trying to hide the excitement from her voice.

"Yes, that is all we know," he said quietly.

"Thank you, Gaius."

"You will keep quiet about Constance then?"

"Of course, Gaius. Your secret is safe with me," Elenwen purred.

"You have my thanks then." Gaius turned to remount his horse.

"But there is one small problem," the Altmer called out forcing the man to turn back around to face her.

"What is it now, Elenwen?" he cried. "Haven't you gotten enough."

"Oh, I have got everything I needed from you, Gaius," she stated. "but you now know that I live. And I can't risk that getting back to the Dominion."

"What are you saying?" He demanded. "You think I'm going to rush back to Dragon's Bridge and tell them about this whole exchange?"

"No, but I can't account for what you might say to any pretty innkeeps, or barmaids."

With that, Elenwen stepped forward and thrust the knife she had secretly drawn when his back was turned into his gut, angling upwards to slice at his diaphragm. Unable to make even the slightest whisper, Gaius' eyes went wide and his mouth opened to give forth a silent scream.

Elenwen pulled the dagger from his belly and then slashed his throat before dragging him off the road and concealing him in some tundra cotton bushes. Then she mounted his horse and rode off, leaving him to stain with crimson the white fluff that made up his final resting place.

* * *

"Ahhh, thank you, Sionis," Sable said with a satisfied groan. She wiped the blood from her face as the mage applied healing magic to a self-inflicted cut on his wrist. "The blood potions Babette makes do the job, but nothing compares to the real thing."

"You're welcome, my love," Sioins replied.

"You really don't mind?" She asked.

"Mind what?"

"The bloodletting," the assassin returned with mild exasperation. "Me being a vampire. You have no qualms about that?"

"No, not really," Sionis replied. "Well the 'bloodletting' as you put was perhaps a bit strange at first. And it's taken a little while to get used to your eyes. But no. I don't have any problem with you being a vampire."

"Really?" Sable pressed rather surprised.

"Sable, it's been two years since your turning. If I had a problem with it, don't you think it would have come up by now?"

"I thought that with what happened to Clairiss, you would likely have some kind of. . . grudge against the undead. And since I'm undead. . ." she trailed off, letting the thought hang between them.

"You thought maybe I would harbor some sort of resentment against you?" He asked, a warm smile appearing on his face.

"I guess," she answered.

"There was an innkeeper that once did horrible things to you, yes?"

Sable still winced at the man she once thought of as an adoptive father being brought up. She nodded.

"Does that mean all innkeepers do the same? Are all innkeepers as despicable as he was?"

"They may not act upon it," Sable replied, her voice tinged with defiance. "But no one is innocent. Everyone has done some evil and carries it with them."

"Perhaps that was a bad example," Sionis relented after a moment of tense silence. "The point is that you are a vampire and choose to be so freely. My sister was made into the abomination she was against her will. I have always hated zombies and do so even more now. You and she are not the same, so no. I have no problem with who you are. I love you."

"Thank you, Sionis." She smiled as she turned her head away from his gaze.

As she sat there she spotted a small spider roving across the floor of their room in the cave complex that served as the Family's Sanctuary. It was a pale yellowish-brown color, but with a shiny luster. Suddenly it turned and ran straight for her companion. She didn't know how, but she knew there was hostile intent in the arachnid's charge.

"Sionis!" Sable gasped, before smashing it with a nearby boot.

The mage startled before blowing a sigh.

"Was that one dangerous?" he asked, not sure if he actually cared about the answer.

"I don't know," she offered, "I figure it's better to assume so and just squash them than find out the hard way."

"Certainly. And I am getting tired of the animosity from spiders," he said.

"Now that you mention it, I've noticed it seems that all spiders have declared war on you," she mused. "How long has this been happening?"

"Just recently," Sionis replied. "A few months, I think. I'm not entirely sure. I think I really took notice when Gabriella's pet became belligerent."

"Lis attacked you!?" Sable exclaimed in disbelief, "I've never seen her be anything but docile towards the Family."

"She didn't attack me per se," Sionis clarified, "but she did charge to the edge of her. . . area and hissed at me. While odd, I didn't think much of it until Gabriella mentioned how aggressive she was behaving. And let's not forget that I'm not actually a member of the Family. I never agreed to join."

"It's so odd," the assassin said after acknowledging his last statement with a nod. It was true that Sionis had never agreed to joining the Dark Brotherhood over the past two years. He had politely declined every offer (with most of them coming from Sable) fully knowing that it might lead to the Family expelling him from the Sanctuary. But they hadn't yet done so. While Sionis certainly wasn't regarded with the same warmth as others in the guild enjoyed, he had become a fixture in the Sanctuary. Sable long suspected that Astrid allowed him to stay due to what she had done. It wasn't every day that a member of the infamous group actually killed a Daedric Prince. There was also the fact that she had sworn to leave the Dark Brotherhood if they forced Sionis out. Despite that, if Lis became hostile towards the mage, it was bound to cause problems and create a tension in the Family that was not needed. She needed to figure out why all arachnids seemed to take offense to Sionis' existence and see if there was a way to resolve it.

"Any idea what's causing all the hostility?" She asked.

"Yes," he said quietly, "I have an idea who might be behind it."

"Wait, you mean a person is doing this?" Sable asked, an edge creeping its way into her voice.

"Not exactly a person," he replied.

"What does that mean?"

"Do you remember the contract you did for me?"

"Of course, I do," she chortled, "Killing a god is not exactly an everyday event. What about it?"

"If you recall," Sionis started with a nervous sigh. "When we met for the contract, you thought that I had found my sister's murderer and that was who I wanted you to kill. But, I had already found and killed him. Do you remember that?"

Sable nodded.

"Have you ever wondered, how I found him?" He asked. "I found the one nameless mage in all of Tamriel responsible for what happened to Clairiss. Do you know how I did that?"

"I did wonder," she replied. "I even asked you about it. You told me that you didn't want to talk about it. And so, I let it go. Afterwards, I had to focus on recovering from the whole ordeal that was Boethiah killing me and I guess I had forgotten about it."

"Well," Sionis prompted. "Do you have any guesses as to how I did it?"

"Sionis, I have no idea how you did that." Sable responded, some annoyance creeping into her tone. "Please just tell me so I can help you get rid of whoever or whatever is using the world's spiders to attack you."

"I went for months without finding anything; not even a scrap of a clue," the mage began. "I went back to Cragslane Cavern and cursed myself for having destroyed it so thoroughly. I went back to Riften and began asking around about the skooma dealers. An old beggar pointed me to another cave that they used as an old storehouse. I went there and found nothing but frostbite spiders. There was not even any evidence that it had ever been used by anyone.

"I went back in search of any other information and was pointed towards Windhelm. They had apparently been operating on the dock there as well. A dock worker told me of a nearby cave that he thought they had used. Once again, all I found was spiders and no indication that anyone had used it for anything. This pattern continued for months. I was sure that I was going insane. I couldn't help but feel that someone was playing with me, but I had no idea how or why.

"I was in Markarth when she finally revealed herself," he paused, gathering whatever he needed to finish his tale. "She came to me in the form of a beautiful woman. She said she knew me and what I was searching for. But she taunted me. She told me she wouldn't reveal anything unless I visited her at her home. She disappeared and no one else there had seen her. I was going to dismiss it has a strange and terrible dream, but when I opened my map the next morning to try to figure out what I was going to do next, there was new mark on it.

"I went there and found a cave completely infested with spiders. I don't think I had ever seen that many of them in my life, but they didn't attack me. Rather they gave way and let me pass as ventured further into the cave. I was about to turn and try to leave, but then her voice was there beckoning me onward. It was too late when I realized that I had fallen into the web of Mephala."

He paused again and looked to her with a grave, but anguished look on his face. Sable said nothing, letting him take the time he needed to continue, but concern rose within her with each passing moment.

"In short," he finally spoke again. He spoke in a rather quiet voice. "She had no intention of telling me. She just wanted to torture me some before devouring me. And so, I made a bargain with her. I did it to save myself, of course. But truthfully, I did mostly to find out about Clairiss' murderer and to avenge her. I am ashamed of what I did, but I don't regret it. . . if that makes any sense."

"What did you offer her, Sionis?" Sable burst out, interrupting his rambling before it could get going. She needed to hear it, but was afraid that she knew the answer.

"My soul," Sionis replied simply. "I gave her my soul once my life was over."

After a moment of stunned silence, Sable fled the room, tears running down her face.


	3. Chapter 2

Hilca knew well that every ruler, be they Jarl, High King, or Emperor, all had their dark sides. They all had a side that the general populous never saw. She had served as a maid for Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak before his foolish rebellion had got him killed and she now worked in the same capacity for Ysvar, the Dragonborn and High King of Skyrim. She was awestruck with wanderlust at first, just like the others. But it didn't take long for her to see that he was the same as them all. The outside public saw him as the mighty and virtuous, dragon-slaying savior of the world. But she knew better. She had witnessed his temper and experienced it first-hand. And so, she always kept her head down; going about her work as quickly as she could and leaving, trying her best to go unnoticed.

Today was no different. While holding court, his majesty made sure to wear his best noble smile. He spoke kindly to all and resolved all disputes fairly. Not all got what they sought from their High King. In fact, most didn't. But they all left with the wanderlust intact. It was when the Palace of the Kings was close to the general public that the reign of terror began.

The evening's feast had been as taxing as ever with servants rushing to fulfill their King's every demand. If anything was amiss, he would bellow and threaten until the offender was left cowering. She often wondered if it had been better with Ulfric. The late Stormcloak leader certainly was not prone to tantrums like their current sovereign, but the former Jarl's paranoia was legendary among the staff. Often, it would build until reaching a fever pitch and causing the insurrectionist Jarl to convince himself of a spy in the ranks of his servants. Almost invariably it led to someone's death.

She shrugged off her momentary contemplations and hurried to finish cleaning the dining tables. Once done she would be able to retire for the night and, in the end, she supposed it didn't matter much. One ruler was just as good – and terrible – as another.

A few more spots to wipe down and a couple more dishes to scurry off to the kitchen and she would be finished. She almost cracked a smile knowing her work was nearly complete and she would be left to her own for the evening. She could sit with her beloved daughter, Runnhilde, and braid her hair, or tell her stories or whatever else they decided to do. Perhaps they could even go out to the walls if it wasn't too cold and see if they could spot the guard Runnhilde has taken a fancy to. Runnhilde was, in Hilca's mind, too young to be courted yet, but it was so wonderful to see her darling girl growing up. And she certainly didn't mind ogling the younger, fit guardsmen herself.

With a final few swipes of her rag, the table was done and so was she for the night. She cast a quick glance to the throne, but did not see the Dragonborn sitting there. That allowed her to let her smile show out fully and she spun and headed for the kitchen.

Her daughter was how Hilca got through most days. Runnhilde always lifted her spirits. Hilca had been rather young when she had her precious child, but she never regretted it. Her younger age allowed her to be mother, sister, and friend to her daughter, which had contributed to the two of them being rather close. Runnhilde was her motivation for everything. She had got the job working in the Palace for her daughter and had kept it for all those years. All for her beloved daughter.

Runnhilde was waiting for her in the kitchen. Her daughter had once again persuaded the cook to let her in to be there to see her mother as soon as she was done working for the day.

After throwing her apron off, Hilca tightly embraced her child.

"What would you like to do tonight, my darling girl?" Hilca said excitedly. "How cold is it outside?"

"It's cold mother," Runnhilde returned exuberantly with a knowing wink. "But I'm willing to brave it for a while if you are."

They giggled in agreement before leaving through the nearby hallway that would lead them out of the Palace of the Kings. They ran through the corridors stopping only to grab a cloak for each of them and burst out into the cold night, swirling with snow.

They weren't far out into the city streets before the bumped into one of the guards.

"Good evening, Miss Hilca. Good evening Miss Runnhilde," he greeted them.

Despite the helm that covered his entire face, both Hilca and Runnhilde recognized him by his voice. His name was Beiren and he was the guard Runnhilde was so smitten with.

"What are you doing out in a cold night like this one?" Beiren asked cordially.

"Only taking some fresh air," Hilca replied, trying to keep her delight hidden. "The palace can get quite stale sometimes, as I'm sure you know."

"Aye," the man agreed, "I understand, though I do wish I had pulled palace duty this night."

"We will only be just a moment more before going back in," Hilca said, pulling her cloak a bit tighter about her.

"Aye, it's too cold for you both to be out here too long."

"What about you?" Runnhilde squeaked out and when both her mother's and Beiren's eyes turned to her she began to fidget her hands embarrassed. "I mean, don't you get cold."

"I'm used to it," the guard replied proudly, "And I can always check in on Candlehearth Hall and make sure all is well in there if I need a moment to warm up."

Runnhilde nodded her heard and murmured something only she could hear.

"Well, thank you Beiren for the chat," Hilca stated, graciously saving her daughter from her own nervousness. "We shouldn't keep you from your duties any further."

"Actually, before you go, I would ask you something," Beiren said, before becoming nervous himself. "It would probably be better to ask this without Runnhilde present, but I can never seem to catch you in the palace anymore. The High King seems to keep everyone quite busy these days."

A sinking feeling begin to develop in Hilca's gut. She suspected she knew what the handsome young guard's question and she was sure she wasn't ready to answer it.

"Of. . . of course, Beiren," she tried to not let her trepidation show. "What would you like to ask me?"

"I. . . well I have noticed. . ." he stammered in to a pause before regathering himself. "I guess there's no hiding it now. I might as well just be out with it." Again, he paused and Hilca's dread grew. "I think Runnhilde is quite beautiful."

Hilca heard her daughter gasp and knew the girl was turning as red as a snowberry.

"I would like your permission to court and marry Runnhilde," Beiren finished before blowing a sigh of relief as if holding that in another moment would have killed him.

The statement hit Hilca harder any blow from a warhammer. She was undoubtedly happy for her daughter. She had attracted a good man by all appearances. A good man with a good job that could provide for her, but old memories of her being young and in love attacked her. The man that had pledged is undying love for her had disappeared as soon as he had learned that she was with child. It had nearly destroyed her. It had left her alone, without a husband or a way to earn a living. She did not want the same for Runnhilde. And while she seemed sure that Beiren was faithful and would not abandon her, she had been sure of Runnhilde's father as well.

"I'm sorry if this was not the right time," Beiren said seeing the fear and indecision plain on her face. "It's just I've been wanting to ask for some time now and. . ."

"She's too young!" Hilca blurted out.

"Mother!" Runnhilde exclaimed.

"I mean, I sorry Beiren, but she is too young to be wed," Hilca explained much more calmly, having recovered a little from the initial shock.

"Really?" the guard asked, sincerely surprised. "She is quite mature for her age then." He cast a quick gaze to Runnhilde and her look of fury instantly changed to one of bashfulness and she cast her eyes to the snow piled on the side of the street.

"Yes, I really am quite proud of her," Hilca agreed. "And I admit she is not far from being of age, but I'm sure you have better things to do than wait around for a girl to be old enough for you."

"Mother!"

"I assure you I do not." Beiren stated plainly and confidently.

"What?" Runnhilde gasped.

"What was that?" Hilca questioned, her voice barely above a whisper.

"I said that I assure you I have nothing better to do," the guard repeated. "For a woman such as your daughter I would be honored to have her as my wife and it would be my privilege to wait as long as necessary for her hand."

A whimper was heard from Runnhilde. Hilca was left speechless. She could see that she could make this man wait twenty years or more and he would be happy to do so as long as it meant marrying her daughter. He was nothing like the man that had made all those promises and then fled from them. How could she deny Beiren his request?

"I. . . I mean. . . Of course, you have my blessing," she choked up with tears of joy. "I will let you know when the marriage can happen."

"Thank you, Hilca," Beiren replied, sounding like he might be half stifling a sob of his own. "You've made me a happy man. I must be getting back to my patrol. Have a good and safe evening."

With that, the guard left them. Hilca and Runnhilde stood there for just a moment, processing what had just occurred before they both realized with a shiver how cold they were. They both turned and made the short journey back to the servant's entrance to the Palace of the Kings.

"Why would you say I'm too young, mother?" Runnhilde huffed just after they were back inside.

"Because you are, my child," Hilca replied. "You are not yet of age to marry."

"I'm practically old enough," the younger woman argued. "I will be turning in just a few months. I certainly look old enough to be married."

"Yes, I know, Runnhilde, and that's part of the problem." Hilca tried to soothe. "It's just not something you should rush into. I don't want you to make the same mistakes I did. I was foolish to believe in the empty promises of your father. My parents warned me to stay away from him, but I didn't and I want to protect you from the same."

Runnhilde frowned. "Am I a mistake then?"

"Of course not, my darling," Hilca responded. "Why would you ever think that?"

"I know that you fell for a man that ended up abandoning us, but if that was such a mistake and I'm what came from it. . ."

"Don't think that way, Runn," Hilca threw her arms around her daughter. "You are a blessing to me. You have always been such a bright spot in my life. I'm lucky to have such a wonderful child in my life. Not everyone gets to be blessed as I have."

"Am I really a blessing?" Her daughter asked.

"From the Nine Divines themselves." Hilca confirmed. "Now come on. Let's go to our room. We have much to talk about."

"We do?"

"Yes, of course." Hilca playfully chastised, "You'll be getting married in a few months."

Runnhilde squealed with the delight and the two of them turned and sped down the corridors with smiles so large it hurt their cheeks, until they rounded a corner and crashed into a large man with blonde hair and bright blue eyes.

Hilca looked up to see who they had run into and the color drained from her face.

"My apologies, your majesty," she stammered in sheer horror. "Please forgive us. We were just on our way to our quarters. We just had some exciting news and didn't realize how fast we were going. Again, I apologize."

"Yes, of course," the High King stated. "It's quite all right, but we should move more slowly and keep our eyes up as we walk."

"Yes, of course, your majesty," Hilca's terror had not abated at all despite his forgiveness.

"You are one of the maid servants, aren't you?" He inquired, not yet allowing them to leave.

"Yes, your majesty. My name is Hilca."

"And this is your sister?" He asked with sincerity in his voice, though Hilca saw the playful gleam in his eyes and knew he was attempting to pay her a compliment.

"You're too kind, your majesty," Hilca replied more woodenly than she would have liked. "This is actually my daughter, Runnhilde."

"I see," the Dragonborn and High King mused. "She is quite lovely. You must be so proud."

"I am, your majesty," Hilca said, her fear of her king's wrath finally letting up some. "She is a wonderful young woman."

Runnhilde beamed at her mother's compliment.

Ysvar turned his full attention to Runnhilde. "Quite lovely indeed," he said, a predatory look coming into eyes. "Would you like to join me for a while in my chambers tonight, Runnhilde?"

Runnhilde bashfully lowered her gaze from the king. "For what purpose, your majesty," she answered, not sure why she wasn't fully enjoying the king's attention. She had taken quite the liking to the High King at one point and thought she would have rather liked it.

"We may do whatever we would like to do." The High King replied.

Hilca's terror had returned beyond all reason. "No, your majesty! You must not!" She exclaimed. "She is not yet of age. . ."

"DID I ASK HER AGE!?" The High King shouted, his voice like a deafening peal of thunder that echoed throughout the corridors.

Both women recoiled before the large man and the sudden display of his rage.

"If you are so worried about her," he snarled through gritted teeth, "then you can join us."

"Your majesty, I. . ."

"SILENCE!"

With that, the High King grabbed both women and dragged them off through the hallways towards his bedchambers.

* * *

Sable stood up from the edge of the bed she and Sionis shared.

"I'm going to kill her," she announced.

"Okay," Sionis consented absent-mindedly, not looking up from the book he was reading. A moment later he realized to whom she might be referring. "Wait, who are you going to kill?"

"Mephala," Sable replied, a hint of challenge in her voice. "Don't give me that look Sionis, it's all I can think of to get your soul back from her."

"Sable, you can't kill Mephala. She's a Daedric Lord."

"I've done it before," the white-haired assassin challenged.

"Yes, and you died from it," the mage countered.

Sable's face screwed up in a look of incredulity.

"I seem to have survived," she finally threw out when no further argument was offered by her companion.

"Sable, you died," Sionis replied. "I saw it. I watched you breathe your last breath. It's a miracle that the vampirism worked its way through your system so fast and I'm so glad it did and that I have you, but you died."

"It wasn't the disease that brought me back," Sable argued. "Sithis returned me from the Void. I am here today because of his blessing."

"Not the point," the mage chortled with exasperation. "Take it from someone that has actually spoken with her. You barely conquered Boethiah. You would not win against Mephala."

"I'm much stronger now," Sable said, her voice slightly tainted with arrogance. "Faster too. I could. . ."

"No. You couldn't," Sionis cut her off, his tone as hard and final as she has ever heard it. "Mephala would kill you. It's not a guess or an assumption on my part, Sable. I know you would lose. I have no doubt of it at all. Even after having seen you take down Boethiah."

His words were the strongest punch to the gut she'd ever taken. Sable's voice failed her and she slowly sank back down to sitting on the edge of their bed.

"I'm sorry, my love, to hurt you." Sionis said gently but with a firmness that told her he would not back down from his position. "But I'd rather hurt you with some words and hope to make it up to you later, than to lose you altogether. I couldn't bear to go through that again. I'm sure it would kill me."

A small smile ghosted across her face as he said the last part. She lifted her gaze to his, searching his expression with her molten gold eyes. She saw only genuine concern there with perhaps a fair amount of fear mixed in as well.

"What makes you so sure I would die?" she asked. Her voice had lost all of the confidence and challenge it held moments ago. It was much softer now and filled with hurt and uncertainty. Sionis' passion and conviction on the subject had shaken her. It was enough to make her wonder if she should abandon the idea. But she just couldn't let it go. She had killed a Daedric Prince once; surely, she could do it again, right? He had been so confident in her back when he had hired her to kill Boethiah. She had been the one to think it was crazy to even try. What made Mephala so different?

Sionis smiled warmly at her and brushed a hand along her cheek. "If it came down to a one on one fight, I have no doubt you could win," he said, seemingly having heard her thoughts. "But it would never happen. She would simply overwhelm you with an army of her servants. "

"What servants does Mephala have?" Sable asked not as a challenge but with genuine curiousity.

"According to Festus, they are a grotesque combination of a spider and a dremora," the mage replied. "Though I saw none when I had my encounter with her."

"You've been talking to Festus about this?" Sable uttered with surprise. "I thought Festus. . . how did you put it? Disturbed you."

"He did. He does." Sionis confirmed. "I did consult with him a bit, however, about Mephala when you had brought up killing her for the third or fifth time. I thought to see what hope there was of trying to kill her."

"This habit of not telling me things is getting old, you know," Sable said with more amusement in her voice than indignation. She was touched that he had sought out a member of her Family in order to help her. Even if she was never going to use the information he gathered, he still had made the effort.

"I'm sorry, my love," Sionis said," At the time, you were away on several contracts and I meant to tell you when you got back, but you were rather happy to see me and I forgot about it through all the distraction."

Sable smiled and blushed ever so slightly. She remembered the incident he mentioned and what little ire that had rose up in her died. She had to admit he was right. She had been very distracting that day. She pushed the memory, and the wonderful feelings that came with it, aside. For once they were going to finish a conversation before it could be interrupted by a contract or emotions or each other or whatever else.

"Didn't Boethiah send an army of his Hunger after us?" She queried, getting the discussion back on subject. "We defeated them as well. How would Mephala's be any different?"

"Boethiah didn't send his full army against us," he explained. "We met with just a taste of it. Boethiah was too caught up in either converting you to his cause or besting you in combat. We won't experience that with Mephala. She'll crush us under the weight of her entire army. She would barely notice our struggle."

"Did you encounter any of these spider daedra?" Sable asked wondering if he'd had a chance to test their strength.

"No," Sionis answered. "I didn't even see one. There were only spiders. More spiders than I had ever dreamed possible."

"How many?" Sable was almost afraid to ask after hearing the tones of a haunting memory creep into his voice.

His gaze snapped back to her.

"Countless," he said. "It seemed there were more spiders than there were stars in the sky. I only survived because Mephala allowed it."

The room went quiet as the weight of what the mage said settled heavily on them.

"So, we're not going to go after Mephala, then," Sable finally broke the silence.

"I wouldn't advise it," Sionis replied. "Unless we could somehow open some void underneath her army and skip to facing her directly."

"Wait. That's it!" Sable perked up. "The Void. That's how we save your soul from Mephala."

"I don't have the ability to actually open a void like that," the mage countered, "I'm not even sure it's possible."

"No, that's not what I meant," she shot back excitedly. "I can't believe I didn't think of it before."

"Thought of what? Sable, I'm not following you."

"The Void! Sithis!" The assassin was near shouting. "Sionis, all you have to do is join the Dark Brotherhood and the problem's solved! Mephala won't be able to touch you once your soul belongs to our Dread Father."

Sionis sat in stunned silence for a moment. This was a conversation they had had numerous times over the past two years but it had never come up from this angle before. And he certainly wasn't sure he wanted to sell his soul to one deity just to get out from under another.

"Sable," he said quietly, "I can't join the Dark Brotherhood."

"Why not?" Sable asked, her surprise evident in her voice. "Don't you see how it could solve everything?"

"What exactly does it solve?" Sionis replied. "I sell off my soul to one deity to avoid another? That doesn't necessarily stop Mephala from coming after me either way, does it?"

"Sithis is not just some deity. He is the Void and all will eventually find their way to him." Sable replied. "His power is beyond those of any Daedra. We saw this for ourselves when I killed Boethiah."

"Would he put a stop to all the spider attacks?" The mage asked.

"I don't know, Sionis," she replied quietly.

"Would he offer me protection from her?" He pressed. "Would giving my soul to Sithis strip the enhancement to my magic abilities that were given to me by Mephala?"

Sable cast her fiery eyes down to the floor and shrugged.

"But he would require me to murder innocent people, correct?" Sionis accused.

Sable's gaze shot back up to him, indignation alive in them.

"No one is innocent, Sionis," she retorted.

"He would ask me to murder people, wouldn't he?" Sionis fired back, not backing down.

"Yes, he would," Sable answered forcefully. "He wishes all to be returned to him."

"I don't know that I can do that," Sionis replied. He was calm again. The fight having left him.

"You didn't seem to have a problem with it when we were carving up all of Skyrim so you could have a god murdered," Sable accused.

"That was different," Sionis said, some of the fire rising back up with him.

"How?" Sable asked with incredulity. "How is it any different than the woman that wants her rapist murdered? How is it different from the beggar that desires to see a former business partner killed for conning him out of everything he had? How are 'they' any different from 'you'?"

The mage opened his mouth to fight back, but found there was nothing for him to say. It wasn't that she couldn't understand. The problem was that she wouldn't understand. His sister was an innocent that she proclaimed didn't exist. What he had asked for was justice, not petty revenge.

Before either of them could voice anything else, there was a knock at the door.

"Come in," Sable called out, more than ready for some relief from this two year argument surfacing again.

The door opened and Gabriella appeared.

"Astrid would like you," the dark elf said. "We have an unexpected visitor. He apparently knew the passphrase to the black door."

Sable's eye went wide. "What!?"

"Yes, it would seem that he just let himself in and demanded to speak with our leader."

"But only one of the Family would know the password," Sable protested.

"Yes," Gabriella confirmed. "Astrid has asked that all of us be gathered."

"Of course," Sable replied, leaving her room and following Gabriella, grabbing her daggers as she went.

The Dunmer assassin led her to the common area with the small pool, below the large stained-glass motif of Sithis. Most of the rest of the Family had already gathered around a single individual. A short Imperial by the look of him. He spoke quite enthusiastically and with a high pitched, squeaky voice that she found annoying rather quickly. And strangest of all, he appeared to be wearing a jester's cap.


End file.
